Page 107 of Descent

A last-ditch effort twitches the gun as I squeeze. The gun makes no sound. The raging wail that shreds my throat doesn’t reach my ears.

Ero bucks, the bullet ripping through him.

Tears dry on my cheeks, tightening the skin of my face. Shriveling the last tormented fragments of my heart.

Ero’s lips fall open, his hand reaching for the hole in his chest.

He staggers once. Falls.

Sound returns as he hits the ground, the impact crushing me like a gavel. Sentencing me to eternal fire.

Gorgeous onyx eyes stare back at me, filled with only love. A flicker, then the flame extinguishes.

“Bring her,” a deep voice calls from far away.

Suddenly the spell is broken. I’m scrambling, scraping to get to him. I need to hold him one last time, touch him?—

Viselike hands pull me away. Too many.

I’m kicking, clawing?—

A blow across my jaw bursts into stars behind my eyes, knocking me senseless. My feet drag on the steps. Rust trickles from my lips.

Just before they cast me into the back of the van, I catch sight of her standing at the other car door, watching me placidly. A final surge of defiant rage raises my head enough to spit at her, missing.

I sag.

“Why?” I sob, unable to hold myself up any longer. “Why did you do this to me?”

“Because I love you, darling. I want you to fulfill your purpose. To use the gifts you were blessed with.”

Blessed. No.

I’m cursed.

“Frankly, either of you would have worked as a proof of concept. But I wanted it to be you. The first of my children. My soldiers.”

30

ERO

“Holy, you.”

“Huh?”

“Saint Ero of the bleeding chest wound.” Ciro sings in a cantus voice.

“S-stop talking.”

“First you miss me, then I show back up and you want me to go away. If I stop talking, you might sprout cherub wings and drift away, lil’ bro.”

“We’re the same age. And I doubt I’m getting angel wings.”

“Not with that attitude. You could have been Victoria Secret model of the year…”

The tiniest chuckle spasms my body with blinding pain. Well. Still alive.

My eyes won’t open at first, so I take some time to appreciate the cold, grit-covered tile against my face. Some of the relentless suffering dwindles, narrowing to a more specific trauma. Never felt pain like this there. Right through my upper chest.

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